


Talk To The Animals

by satanic_panic



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 16:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: A chance meeting, a brewing war - what next?





	Talk To The Animals

It seemed as if you were always down in the woods, singing along with the birds in the trees, holding conversations with the young roe deer buck, utterly and completely relaxed and within your element; when you graduated from Charles Xavier’s school at eighteen, Logan introduced you to the spot, and for all the years after and since, you had been going there and sitting beside the river with all the animals that came to say hello. However, you were a little shocked when you got there one rainy August afternoon to find a man sat beside one of the trees, your usual place; his shoulders were tense as he muttered to himself through gritted teeth, hardly audible above the sound of the birds. You cleared your throat as you sat down a few feet away to his left, closer to the thorny bramble bush that stood proudly nearer to the deeper parts of the river. 

“I don’t mean to intrude,” you said quietly, watching the running water. “But, are you alright?” 

The man shot you an icy glare, so cold it made your bones ache and freeze, with his perfectly arctic cobalt eyes. “Just fine.” He paused, sighing and shaking his head. “Beck, Quentin Beck.” 

You nodded politely at the introduction. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

“Sorry if I snapped, or seem snappy,” Quentin said, putting on a false politeness, a mask of apology. “I just… my fucking asshole boss fired me today, not to mention, he gave my entire life’s work the fucking worst possible name in existence… bastard.” 

It was then that you noticed the lanyard around his neck, dark metallic red with ‘Stark Industries’ in gold, repeated all over; you weren’t about to ask anything further. “I’m sorry, that must be… fuck, that’s unimaginable.” 

The glare he shot you was a lot warmer than the last, as if a small part of the ice in his eyes had thawed a fracture. “I’m guessing you come here often?” With a chuckle, he added: “what do you do, talk to the animals?”

Laughing along, although mostly out of nervousness, you shrugged. “From time to time.” 

“They ever talk back?” Quentin asked, half-seriously. 

You glanced at him for a second before looking the complete opposite way, refusing to meet his eyes as you cleared your throat. “No.” 

\---

You sat by the river, talking to Quentin for a few hours before you thought about going home, and when you did eventually leave the woods in favour of making a return to the flat you shared with your best friend, Wade, you collapsed on the sofa, your head in his lap, feed propped up on the sofa; you felt horrible about yourself for not being proud enough of who you were, for not being confident enough to admit to a stranger that you had been born with mutant abilities. 

“Please tell me we have whisky,” you muttered as he ran a hand through your hair. 

“Nope,” Wade replied, “you and Matt drank it all - why?” 

You let out a heavy, burdened, woeful sigh. “There was a guy down the woods, Quentin his name was, Wade, mate, he was so handsome and charming and… kinda mysterious, but in a hot way, and… well, he asked if I talked to the animals - just joking about - and I… I said no.” 

Wade frowned a little as he subtly sighed, hating the fact that you hated the abilities you were born with, something you could never change about yourself, even though he knew that feeling all too well. “Shit, I’m fucking sorry, shit face.” 

You smiled a little at the playful insult. “Thanks, shit for brains.”

Flicking your forehead, Wade let out a snicker. “Does ice cream and a joint sound good to you, or am I just the fanfic author’s fucking mouthpiece again?” 

Wade always knew that smoking a joint and eating a tub or two of ice cream nearly always made you feel a little, if not a lot, better; you thought about it for a moment, but eventually agreed. “You go get the ice cream, I’ll go see Eddie.” 

Wade agreed to that nearly straight away, but insisted on walking to Eddie’s flat with you, it was only down the hall, thankfully, but he dropped you off outside Eddie’s door in order to go off in search of some decent ice cream; you knocked on Eddie’s door gently, only having to wait a few seconds before he opened it with a smile. 

“I’m not a dealer, you know,” he told you as he welcomed you into his flat. 

“Then why do you always have a massive stock of weed?” You asked as if you didn’t already know the answer. 

Already grinding up some weed to put it into a joint, Eddie hummed. “I wouldn’t give you any if you weren’t my-  _ our  _ friend, you know that.” 

You let out a chuckle as you sat down on the edge of his coffee table, curious as you watched the process, always so curious about it no matter how many times you witnessed it. “Well, yeah, I mean sharing’s caring, right?” You paused, putting your hand on his shoulder and smiling. “Seriously, though, Eddie - I owe you for this.” 

Smiling back, Eddie shrugged, shook his head and patted your hand gently with his own. “Call it even for the time you and Matt sorted that… legal problem of mine - and for the time Wade chopped his arm off for V.” 

At the thoughts, the memories, you laughed, nodding. “You’re the best.” 

\---

After smoking a joint with Wade, as well as eating all the ice cream he had bought, you waited for your high to wear off before you dared to move from the sofa to grab your phone, groaning and giggling at how everything seemed to shift and become blurry for a moment; you dialled Matt’s number, and put him on speaker so that Wade could talk to him, too. 

“Please tell me the two of you aren’t in some jail cell and need a lawyer.” 

“Hey!” You and Wade exclaimed, mildly offended. 

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to come over,” you explained, pouting a little, “but, seeing as how you just said that-”

Matt cut you off with a chuckle. “I’m sorry… but, you do realise I’m walking past your building now, and all I can smell is weed, though, right?” 

You and Wade exchanged a glance, giggling, before you asked a slightly burning question: “does it always smell of weed?”

The signal cracked a little. “Yes, it does. I’m gonna come up, open the window?” 

Shaking your head fondly, you rose from the sofa and opened the window, allowing Matt to climb in with a thud. 

“Can you not use the fucking door?!” Wade sighed as Matt sat down on the sofa beside him. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’s always unlocked!”

Matt frowned a little at that, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that - do you realise how unsafe it is?”

You sat down on the floor in front of them. “Yeah, like there’s someone out to kill us.” 

“Sarcasm, how original,” Matt teased. “Anyways, I’m glad you two asked me to come over.” 

You and Wade looked at him with furrowed brows, curiosity and concern mixing in your eyes. “Why?” 

Matt sighed and shrugged, looking a bit reluctant. “This new guy, Beck, moved in below me earlier, and the noise is driving me fucking up the wall - it’s driving my senses into overdrive.” 

The name sounded awfully familiar as you looked at the vigilante-lawyer with more concern than curiosity. “Want me to go talk to him in the morning?” 

“You talk to the animals, not the fucking people,” Wade joked. “I’ll talk to the dick.” 

“Oh, yeah, just go threaten to kill the guy,” you mocked. “Wilson, you are a genius, aren’t you?” 

“Shut up, fuck face,” he chuckled, leaning back in his seat. 

“You shut up, Freddy Krueger,” you shot back with a titter. 

Matt shook his head at yours and Wade’s childish bickering. “(Y/N), if you wanna talk to the guy, be my guest - just don’t let Wade near him, I don’t want a lawsuit.” 

“I’ll remember that next time you ask for my help,” Wade said, far from serious. “Especially because you chose Cap’s side, you dick!” 

Matt simply sighed about the comment in order to keep himself from letting out a laugh; but you knew that with the bubbling and brewing Super Civil War, you would all have to choose a side, pushing jokes away. 

\---

The next morning, you were careful not to wake Wade and Matt, who had fallen asleep on the sofa, and went to Matt’s building, you knocked on the door of the flat he had complained about; but when the door opened, you could have sworn that your jaw hit the floor and your eyes popped out of your skull. There, stood Quentin, the man you met in the woods. 

“How’d you know I live here?” He asked with a raised brow and a slight chuckle. “You’re not a SHIELD agent, are you?”

Clearing your throat, you shook your head, hardly believing the sight before you. “No, I, uh, well, my friend, he, erm, he lives in the flat above and asked me to come, and well, keep the noise down a bit, ‘cause, you see, he’s, uh, his hearing is really, y’know, like-”

“I’ll keep it down, (y/n),” he agreed, surprising you by the fact that he remembered your name as he offered a false smile. “Do you wanna come in? I just made coffee.” 

You shrugged, a little hint of a smile on your lips. “Sure, uh, yeah, thank you.” 

Quentin shook his head as he shrugged. “Least I could do, seeing as how I upset or hurt your friend.” 

Stepping inside the flat, you were a little taken aback by how nice it was; fashionable and posh white leather sofa, marble counters, black metal coffee table - it was like walking into a room that belonged to The Great Gatsby, lush and luxurious with the faint scent of lavender in the air. You leaned against one of the marble counters, feeling a bit out of place, as Quentin poured the cups of coffee. Even his mugs and cups were stunning to look at. 

“This genuinely makes the flat I share with my mate look like a pigsty,” you chuckled nervously, thanking him quietly when he passed you your cup. It had been imprinted with the scene of crows flying above a field of wheat. 

Quentin shrugged and hummed, looking around the flat as if he wanted to see it through your eyes instead of his own. “It’s nothing, nothing great.” 

He wasn’t being humble, a distinct bitterness in his voice that you could practically see in the air. “Well, I think it’s great.” 

A smile came to rest upon his lips, but failed to veil and mask the anger and bitterness in his cobalt eyes. “Thank you.” 

You smiled back, ignoring that particular spot of ice in his eyes as you took a swig of coffee. “Y’know, when my friend asked me to come down, I… well, I wasn’t expecting to see you.” 

The noise that left Quentin was halfway between a scoff and a snort of laughter. “I only moved in a couple of hours after I met you in the woods, I needed a place with much cheaper rent.” 

Nodding in understanding, you replied, “can’t blame you there, but… still, I am so sorry that that happened to you.” 

He shrugged your empathy off, almost as if it offended him “He’ll get what’s coming to him… by my doing, or someone else’s.” 

\---

You went home in the evening, having spent the morning and afternoon with Quentin, but to your surprise, Wade wasn’t in sight - in his place, Matt had spread out on the sofa, listening to the television but turning it off when you walked in. 

“Where’s our merc?”

Matt ran a hand through his hair. “He got a call, something about helping Tony Stark with some plans or something or other… I think… shit, I think the civil war’s gonna come a lot sooner than any of us expect, (y/n).” 

The anxiety of the beginning and bubbling and brewing war made you feel sick as you began to pace the flat. “Let’s… let’s not think about it just yet… I mean, on the plus side, I spoke to your neighbour, he’s agreed to be quieter.” 

“That’s great!” Matt sighed with relief as he sat up properly so that you could crash down beside him. 

“Yeah, he even asked me out on a date,” you admitted. 

“A date?” He questioned. “With that asshole? Really?” 

You were all too aware that he could hear your heart in your chest as you shrugged. “I dunno, he’s kinda handsome, in a mysterious way - you gotta cut him a bit of rope, Matty, he’s just lost his job.” 

Matt groaned and shook his head. “I’ll never understand your taste in people.” 

“Oh, please, you’re one to talk,” you scoffed playfully. But, you did have a point, as most of Matt’s love interests had not been great - at least the only bad example you had had was Billy “Jigsaw” Russo, whereas Matt had so many that it could be turned into a mile-long list. 

“Still,” he huffed. “That Beck guy is probably worse than Russo!” 

You let out a rather loud scoff. “I highly doubt that, Quentin seems nice, you should give him a chance.” 

Matt let out a displeased groan, brows furrowing. “We’ll see… when’s this date?” 

You smiled to yourself a little, if only for a moment. “Tonight.” 

“So, with a fight between some of our closest friends brewing, you’re going on a date instead of picking a side?” He asked, voice dropping slightly as he listened to the way your heart sped up. 

“Yeah, Matt, I am,” you answered. “‘Cause I’m not picking a side, unlike you and Wade, I don’t run around in latex beating up bad guys - I’m not a superhero, so why should I get involved?” 

\---

That night, you were thankful that the date with Quentin went amazingly, he was charming and gentlemanly the entire time, and when he asked if you wanted to do it again, you agreed; Wade was more than supportive of your budding romance, but Matt and Eddie agreed that there was something wrong with Quentin they couldn’t quite sink their teeth into. When you eventually told Quentin about your ability to talk to the animals, you were relieved that he didn’t hurl poisoned words at you, that he seemed understanding and perhaps even a little empathetic; that was the thing that set air raid sirens off for Eddie, the fact that you had told Quentin, which was why he snuck into your boyfriend’s flat one night after picking the lock easily and quickly. 

“Can we eat him?” Venom growled. 

Eddie shook his head, keeping his voice quiet. “He’ll probably give you food poisoning, my love.” 

Venom hummed. “How bad is he?” 

Eddie let out a nearly silent sigh. “Not sure yet, love.” 

He paused in front of a desk littered with paper; a look of horror covering his face as he used his phone to take a quick picture. 

“Can we bite his head off?” 

Eddie swallowed thickly as he read the page. “I… he wants to use (y/n) to release all the animals from the zoo and attack people so he… so he can play the hero…” a rush of anger flashed through his veins. “That fucking… what the fuck is this guy after? What the fuck is wrong with this guy?” 

“We have to tell the others, Eddie,” Venom said. “Wade and Matt - they have to know, love.” 

Eddie nodded, fleeing the scene as quickly as possible and racing up to Matt’s flat, pounding on the door. 

With a black eye and messy hair, Matt opened the door with a creak and a groan. “Brock?” 

Barging in, Eddie thrust his phone into Matt’s hand, pacing around like a caged up tiger. “We found that at Beck’s place, he… fuck, Matt, he’s gonna use (y/n) to make himself look like… to act like… some kinda hero!” 

“Eddie.” Matt coughed as he passed the phone back. “Unless if you can put it in Braille, I won’t be able to read it.” 

“Shit, right, sorry,” Eddie apologised sincerely. “But, I’m telling you, he’s got all these plans to use (y/n).” 

“We can’t take him to court,” Matt replied with a certain kind of woe in his voice. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but you got this illegally.” 

Sighing, Eddie shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, I picked the lock to get in… but, surely, even if it’s illegally obtained, it’s still evidence, right?” 

Matt shook his head. “Nope. If we’re gonna sort Beck out, we’ll need to do it as Venom and Daredevil, if you catch my meaning?”

“Whatever it takes, right?” 

“Right… but, as much as I hate to say this, it might also be worth getting Wade, too, just in case things go south.” 

\---

After reading the picture on Eddie’s phone, it didn’t take anything further to get Wade on board, but while your three friends were busy making a plan, you were at the zoo with Quentin; he seemed utterly infatuated as he watched you talk to the animals and as he gazed, he found a spot of reluctance to go through with his plans form in his veins. Quentin was falling for you, hard and fast, and although he knew he would have to break your heart, he almost didn’t want to. 

“Y’know,” his voice was quiet and low in your ear as he spoke, “we could go home and see what those jeans look like on my floor, get up to some pretty sinful things, honey.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes at him. “You are an insatiable man, Quentin Beck.”

Quentin shrugged, smirk plastered on his lips. “You love me for it.” 

“I love you for a lot of things,” you chuckled. “Being constantly horny isn’t one of them.” 

He knew you were only joking, your sense of humour always got him to at least stifle a laugh; poor Quentin was so perfectly and torturously conflicted - he had spent so long on his plans, but he felt like tearing them apart and setting them alight until they were nothing but dust when you looked at him, when you smiled at him. 

“Come on,” he coughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go get something to eat, honey.” 

Leaning into his touch, you smiled and nodded. “What were thinking - Thai? Chinese? Burgers?” 

Quentin let out a hum, false softness leaking into reality - you were ruining his plans without even realising it. “I was thinking fish and chips.” 

“That does sound good,” you admitted. “From that takeaway by Josie’s, right?” 

He nodded, involuntarily pulling you closer when he felt the cold breeze, as if his body had some sudden urge of instinct and impulse to keep you safe and warm and snug in his arms. “Solomon’s is the name, I think.” 

You fell silent as you tried to remember the name of the chip shop. “I think so, yeah.” 

\---

The smell of batter and fish hung in the air as you and Quentin stood in the empty chip shop whilst your order was being fulfilled and prepared - two pieces of battered haddock, one large portion of chips - he was holding you close, but also cursing himself; when he first met you, Quentin thought of you as nothing more than a passerby, insignificant and unimportant; but then he grew to know you, and he began to think of you as someone to warm his best… but you went and ruined that by telling him you could talk to the animals, letting him see an opportunity to act on his plan a little bit earlier than he had first intended and planned to - but you ruined that, too, by being so lovely that it made him reluctant to use and manipulate you… even if he didn’t want to say it, confess it, admit that, in the bottom of his heart of ice, a certain warmth was thawing through, using his dripping heart to make daffodils bloom in his lungs when you smiled at him, when you kissed him. 

“Here you are.” Said the man at the till as he placed a large white bag on the counter. “Large chips and two fish.” 

Grabbing the bag, Quentin thanked him before leaving the chip shop with you; you wound up sat in your spot of the woods, so hungry that you ate in complete silence, scoffing it all down like a starved, maniac of a wolf. 

“Cor, that was nice!” You sighed contently as you placed your head on Quentin’s shoulder. 

Wrapping his arms around you, he let out a hum of agreement. “It always is there… back at my old job, I used to go there for my lunch from time to time.” Looking down at you for a moment, Quentin rolled his eyes at the way you looked at him. “Save your tender curiosity, honey, I’m still not telling you.” 

Of course, Quentin was referring to the ‘why’ and ‘who’ of why he had lost his job; he was a long way from telling you that Tony Stark had fired him for being unstable, too much pressure and stress causing him to break, not that Tony blamed him, oh, no, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist blamed himself, if anyone. 

“I get it,” you replied replied, “I just can’t help it, I just… I’m curious.” 

Kissing the top of your head, he let out a soft growl. “I know, but all in due time, honey, trust me.” 

You fidgeted, trying to get closer despite it being utterly impossible in every sense of the word. “I do trust you, a lot more than my friends might want me to.” 

Quentin shrugged. “Fuck ‘em. All that matters is what you want.” 

“I know, but…” you sighed, so heavily and woefully. “I dunno, I feel like I’m stabbing them all in the back, y’know?” 

He let out a murmur, so incoherent it didn’t even carry a tone. “I know, honey, I know. It’s partly my fault, I made an awful impression.” 

\---

The air was tense as Eddie lit up a cigarette with Wade as they sat back smoking, Matt listening closely to Quentin’s heart - it was steady, a little unnerving; it was nearing four o’clock in the morning, you were in the kitchen making coffee as the four men sat there - Wade couldn’t take the silence any longer and leaned forward, cigarette dangling out of his mouth as he spoke in puffs of smoke. 

“We know what your plan is, you piece of shit.” 

Quentin’s heart didn’t even miss a beat as he cooly replied, “what plan?” 

“This one,” growled Eddie, tossing his phone onto the table, the phone for all to see. 

Matt clearing his throat, talking as if he was in the court-room, so formal and almost cold that it was as if he was a completely different person. “If you even think of pulling this bullshit, I will not hesitate to break your legs, Mister Beck.” 

Wade snarled in agreement. “Fuck with (y/n), and you’ll wish for the mercy of round-the-clock torture.” 

“You’ll have to get through Venom, too,” Eddie growled, allowing the symbiote to materialise over his hand. 

“We’ll eat your organs,” Venom grinned. “Slowly, piece by little piece.” 

Quentin didn’t even flinch, a bead of sweat didn’t even form on his brow. “I’d never hurt (y/n).” 

It was then that you wandered in with four coffees, handing them out before grabbing a Red Bull from the fridge and sitting on your boyfriend’s lap; you picked up Eddie’s phone, looking at the picture with confusion, curiosity. 

“What is this?” 

“He’s using you!” Your three friends barked. 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “That’s bullshit, right, Quentin?” 

He nodded. “Absolute bullshit, honey.” 

“See?” You smiled, looking at your three friends. 

“You can’t seriously believe him!” Cried Eddie. 

“What happened to mates before fucking dates?!” Howled Wade. 

“Please say sike…” Matt pleaded. 

“Guys, c’mon,” you rolled your eyes. “Quentin wouldn’t do that.” 

Quentin shook his head, biting back his smug smirk. “Not for love or money.” 

Wade was about to howl some more, when his phone went off; he checked it, and suddenly stood up. “Shit’s just hit the fucking fan, I gotta go, but you-” he glared at Quentin. “I’m keeping my fucking eye on you.” 

The door slammed shut behind Wade just as Matt’s phone began to ominously ring. “Hello? Yeah, this is Matt Murdock… h-he does? Yeah, uh, no, yeah, sure, I’ll be there in five, Cap.” 

‘Cap’, the word yanked at your heart; the civil war had begun, and as Matt left, you couldn’t help the feeling of dread in your heart. Two of your friends were gone, off to fight a war that no one knew would be the result, the outcome - for all you knew, you would have to live a life without Matt or Wade. 

“Eddie-” 

“Not going anywhere,” he assured when he heard the woe, the worry, in your voice that made him want to tear up and cry. “Both asked, both got told to fuck off - we don’t care for super-politics.” 

“But who would you stand with?” Quentin asked, relieved that the subject of his manipulation was forgotten about - if only for the moment. “If you had no other choice.” 

Eddie thought for a moment before replying, “without a doubt? Stark.” 

Neither you nor Eddie saw the way Quentin’s jaw clenched at the name; you slid off of his lap, shaking your head and running a trembling hand through your hair. 

“What’re we gonna do? There’s a fucking super civil war going on, and two of the people I care most about in the world are on the opposite fucking sides - shit, what if they kill each other? What if someone finds a way to reverse Wade’s healing factor? I can’t… two fucking caskets, I-”

“Don’t you know a guy in England?” Eddie cut your anxious panic off, trying to distract you. “We could go see him.” 

“You mean Brian?” Chewing the inside of your mouth, you let out a sigh, and nodded. “I could give him a bell and ask, sure, yeah, I guess.” 

Eddie nodded. 

“Do it.” Quentin replied. 

\---

Brian had agreed to allow you, Eddie and Quentin to come to England; he put you up in a large house on the outskirts of Bristol city, which he had asked the local authorities to borrow - he didn’t give a date to give it back on, as there was no way of telling when the civil war of heroes would end. 

“I’ve got a few things to do,” Brian explained, “but, if you need even the time of day, drop me a bell.” 

You nodded, quickling hugging him. “I will, thank you, Bri.” 

He put his hand on your shoulder, smiling a little; it was very much the same smile a father would give his child. “It’s the least I could do for one of Charlie’s favourite students.” 

“Ex-student,” you corrected with a soft bark of laughter. 

Brian shrugged and playfully slapped the back of your head. “Shove off, last time I saw you, you were just about preparing for graduation.” 

You shook your head. “That was years ago, mate.” 

“Time flies when you’re trying to keep everyone safe, I guess,” he said, a little sadly as he looked into your eyes. “It’s nice to see you again, though, (y/n). Give old Charlie my best when you see him, won’t you?” 

You agreed, kissing his cheek. “I will, tell the rest of the Braddock lot I said ‘hi’, please?”

“Of course,” he nodded, but just as he was about to leave, Brian added: “be sure to tell Matthew and Wade I said ‘hello’, too - and don’t go running into any fucking trouble!” 

When Brian left, Quentin turned to you with a confused look. “An old friend?” 

You shook your head, still smiling as you met his gaze. “Brian’s more like family, before he became Captain Britain, he used to swing by the X-Mansion a lot. Him and Charles go way back.” 

“You would know that if you really cared.” Eddie commented as he barged past Quentin, knocking his shoulder. 

“I do care,” Quentin snarled before sighing and pulling you close to his body. “You can talk to the animals - can’t you get a rat to shit in his pillow or something, honey?” 

You kissed his neck, smiling a little. “Can’t you just learn to get along?” 

Quentin shook his head, sighing. “Honey, he thinks I want to use and manipulate you.” 

“Maybe if you acted a bit more civil, he wouldn’t still think that,” you replied, “just try, please - for me?” 

A part of him wanted to say no, to continue the fight, but a larger part of him wanted to admit that, yes, at one point, he did have plans to use you and your ability to talk to the animals for his own agenda - but you ruined that plan so innocently by making him fall for you and your wonderful self. He had a choice to make: either he could lie until you caught him out, or he could rip the plaster off and deal with the consequences. The large grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly. If he lost you, Quentin knew he could continue with his original plan, same as if he kept you - either way, he would still be able to go on with his show. 

“Sit down.” He commanded gently, sitting next to you at the bottom of the grand staircase. He looked at the front door, as if expecting it to open. “When you first told me you can talk to the animals, I planned to ask you to help me get people to believe I was a great hero… but, then, I fell for you, and honey, you gotta believe me here, I wouldn’t - couldn’t - go through with it. I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

You moved away a little, looking down at the mud on your trainers with a sniffle, trying to mask and veil a sadness and a stabbing feeling of betrayal. “The times you said you loved me… it was all lies?” 

Quentin shook his head. “No. I meant everything I ever told you.” 

While you wanted to believe him, you didn’t know if you could, you had no idea where the truth began and the lies ended - if the truth even existed, that was. “I’m gonna go talk to Eddie, at least then I won’t have to question what the truth is.” 

“(Y/N)-”

“Leave me alone, Mister Beck.” 


End file.
